Final Goodbye

Yesterday the immediate family and a couple of friends attended the burial of my cousin George's ashes.

There were a vicar and prayers and consecrated ground for a man who believed in none of it, but his widow rightly thought that the setting, in an old church cemetery, bizarrely far from the nearest church, and in a very countrified area, would appeal to him. It also gives his children a place to go and "talk" to him. It is beautiful.

We all thought that the verger would put the box containing the ashes into the hole - it was certainly big enough - but he emptied them in. Some very wispy, smoky-looking bits wafted out in the very light breeze, and I couldn't help thinking, "Hey, George, you didn't smoke when you were alive, but you are now you're dead!"